Forgive Me
by SaoryEmanoelle
Summary: One shot


A body crawls with difficulty through the place, this place nothing more than a black and fluid vastness that laughs at his effort, mocks his hope. The convulsing hand strives to push the broken body as the man, with no strength left, struggles to keep his eyes open. The fear of closing them forever crosses his veins in such a way that leaves him even more stunned than he already was and not even the voices that scream his name around him cause him fear. Only one... Only one single voice is able to bring him terror and anguish at this moment. And this voice is his own.

"Would you look at this, ladies and gentlemen! If it's not Alan Wake, a best-selling writer, lover of his - What did he call her? - Muse, now moribund, useless. Useless, something they made you think you were not. Did you truly believed they cared about you, Wake? Did you?"

Alan Wake closed his eyes tightly, feeling the blood drain into a steady stream from his face torn by an axe. The sardonic voice of his doppelganger teared him inside, bit by bit, freezing his nerves and making his heart flutter. Mr. Scratch had grown stronger while he grew weaker. While he perished to his own ill mind, Scratch became increasingly powerful, confident and violent. Alan trembled when he thought of what his evil twin would do if he left the Dark Place. He trembled when he thought of what he would do to the only two people Alan still loved.

Biting his lips, Alan tried to ignore the being who calmly walked up to him. Holding a sob of pain stuck in his throat, he who once was a great writer forced his body forward once more, his back arched, muscles twitching painfully with every breath he took. And the dark steps that chased him only became louder. Alan clenched his teeth in despair, his blue eyes shining with fear, and begged the heavens to free him of such misery when his body was violently pulled back. Scratch had grabbed him by his hoodie and forced him to his knees, a suffered moan escaping his pale lips.

"Come on, Wake... I just started and you're already in this awful state! You used to be better some time ago" The distorted reflection of the writer mocked and forced him to stand up, holding him by the shoulder. Alan barely had time to breathe when he felt a terrible pressure over his abdomen. Once, twice, thrice, ceaseless times he felt his stomach being compressed when struck by the fists of the demon who wore his face. With each impact, a choked cry and with each cry, a wider smile painted Scratch's face. No longer bearing the weight of his own body, Alan Wake collapses against the cold floor, eyes wide in agony, his fingers closing over the internal wound. A biter taste invades his mouth and the world around him becomes diffuse, leaving him terribly dizzy and exhausted. Above him, the voice of the sadistic Herald of Darkness resonates freely.

"You're useless. You always were. Alice put up with you, Wake, of course she would because of the money you had. You were famous and rich, what did she have to lose? She used you for the time needed. Now, with you trapped here, what do you think she's doing? Há!" Scratch smiles like mad, closing his eyes, reveling in telling more and more lies and realizing how much they affected the man who was slowly dying before him. The feeling of pleasure is immense and he looks down, noticing Alan's body slowly go into shock, shaking frantically, and his clear eyes seeing nothing before them because of the silent tears that gather in it and of the blood that flows from his wound and covers his vision. "Alice couldn't be happier. And Barry? Your... Best friend? Yours truly? Is that the best you can get? How didn't you see the real man under that fake smile? Uh? No one ever cared about you, Alan... Your father didn't even care enough **to know you and the only people who lived with you did so out of need! Do you understand what I'm saying?**"

Alan twists around himself, his stomach on fire, his head spinning and a deep weakness gnawing at him altogether. Turning as best as he could, not handling the awful taste in his mouth, he coughs in tremendous pain, a dry, long and suffocated cough followed by nausea and eventually vomiting. He broke into tears as he vomited nothing but blood, his desperate sobs making the things that hid in the dark laugh with pleasure. Scratch was right; he had always been alone. Why would anyone care for someone as insensitive as him? Why would anyone fight for him, feel happiness for him? Biting his own arm in a moment of apprehension, forcing himself to stop thinking, Alan Wake felt all of his reason vanish and all of his hopes of leaving that horrid place and see those he loved lift completely. Scratch smiled, watching with disgust as the man bent over a pool of his own blood.

"How far have we gone? Pst..." He said quietly while Alan muffled his scream by biting his arm. He did not bother to wipe his tears, he no longer felt the need to see and he hated himself for still retaining memories that only increased his anxiety. One day before coming to Bright Falls, he bought flowers for his wife and the two of them spent the day together, packing up and laughing while playing with each other. When Barry hugged him in the Well-Lit room, he could have told him how important he was but he hadn't. Now, both should be together, relieved for being free of the writer. And Alan was alone.

**_Alone!_**

In a swift movement, Scratch forced his twin to look at him and, at this moment, he noticed the pallor on the face of the writer. He had finally given in. There was nothing left to fight for. His eyes didn't focus, only wandering from one point to another, tired, desperate. However, he seemed to be whispering something, constantly, incessantly. At first, Scratch didn't understand the words muffled by the man's gasps but, after listening to it continuously for long seconds, he finally understood.

"_Forgive me... Forgive me... Forgive me... Forgive me... Forgive me... Forgive me... Forgive me... Forgive me..._"

Mr. Scratch stood up, serious, just watching the man who was suffering and who was asking for forgiveness to someone who could not hear him. Alan gasped constantly, vomited more times, but he did not stop apologizing. The darkness had approached him several times, wrapping his body like a blanket and attracting even more nightmares to his mind. That only made him cry more and soon enough he could no longer speak. Lost, Alan forced himself to breathe while Scratch watched, cautious but excited to see how destroyed was the one before him. Then, he did it.

Kicking Alan's face, Scratch forced him out of his trance and a new affliction hit him when he felt this doppelganger's fingers slowly close over his throat. Scratch felt a vein throb beneath his fingers and increasingly deepened his hand against the neck of the writer, choking him and making sure he felt it. Stifled gasps left his lips and an unusual despair sat on his stomach. He heard nothing more. He could almost not see the man over him. His body went numb and his mind started failing him. Still, the memories remained. And when Scratch realized such, he let him breathe, grabbed his head from behind and slammed it against the ground.

* * *

Scratch was gone. Nothing moved on this place. Nothing but a convulsive body left behind, a body that was bleeding and that begged for redemption, for pure and sheer pity. The silence should be absolute, despite the movements of the obscure presences... But it wasn't. And if something or someone could approach the poor man trapped to his pain, they would hear a single sentence still escape his lips.

"_Forgive me"_


End file.
